Canon
by Loganator-JR
Summary: While trying to take a perfect picture to complete his book, a professional photographer stumbles upon an ancient camera. Ignoring the warning of the camera's owner to not use it; curiosity gets the best of him and embarks on what could be his downfall.
1. Prologue: The Photographer

A little something that came to mind…

I don't own Big Time Rush, any of the actors OR the characters. I also don't own the cover photo for this story, so if you know who took it or who's in it; tell them not to sue me. I'm using it because the man in it bears a lot of resemblance to my male protagonist. Who I just gave his identity away... *facepalm*

Hope you all enjoy it.

* * *

"Dude, hurry up!" The taller blonde shouted as he jogged towards the crowd of reporters.

The brunette, who was after the blonde, looked around him. He inspected the huge villa to his right with an experienced eye. His gaze went to his right as he accelerated his speed to catch up to the blonde, his eyes carefully scanning the small marina overlooking the ocean, watching the yachts that belonged to the wealthy families owning the fancy line of houses.

It was well after two in the morning; he'd woken up with a call from his co-worker and good friend, telling him about the murder in that fancy district. He had changed and grabbed his camera in record time, trying to get to the crime scene before many reporters and photographers did. He saw that their efforts to get there fast went in vain, as he spotted the of reporters and flashing lights surrounding the perimeter; the cops trying to do their best at holding them back, shouting that cameras weren't allowed at the moment.

They neared the cops and he could see the two bodies on the porch, covered with white bed sheets and blood seeping from underneath. He turned on his camera and tried to get a clear shot, failing miserably due to the chaos going around him and getting elbowed a few times by other photographers in the process.

The brunette sighed and backed away from the havoc, his eyes going back to the marina. He squinted his eyes at the yacht that was tied directly in front of the crime scene; and he took a couple of steps towards it, ignoring his co-worker's calls. He ducked as he neared the steps leading to the marina and stepped quietly behind a bush. He kept crouching as he trailed the bushes till the next house, climbing down the steps to the marina and jumping on the second yacht to the right.

He climbed the steps to the second floor of the yacht, cursing slightly at the creaking noise. He walked to the front of the yacht, still crouching. He held his camera to his eyes and adjusted the lens, smirking at the silhouette he saw on board the first yacht. He walked to the edge of the second floor, letting his camera fall and dangle around his neck. He jumped over the railing, landing quietly on the tinted glass of the first floor cabin, careful not to slide down the inclined surface; happy with his attire of black leather jacket, grey v-neck and black jeans that had helped him blend in and remain unnoticed by the person in the other yacht.

As he watched closely through the lens of his camera, things started to get clearer and he had never been more thankful for the see-through glass of the other yacht; that allowed him to trace the figure's, now known to be a man, every move. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he ignored it as he watched the man open something below him and bend down. The man in question straightened up again, now holding an AK-47.

He snapped picture after picture of the man's every move, watching as he took aim towards someone among the group of reporters, who were still trying to get the scoop about the murder of one of the most well-respected business men in the state.

_And then all hell broke loose._

* * *

I'm aware it's short, but it's just a prologue. Those are meant to be short.

I hope you guys leave me some feedback, let me know what you all think.

-J


	2. Chapter 1: The Murder

So, Chapter one!

If you all hadn't gathered the prologue's murder has nothing to do with the plot, it was more of a look into Logan's job before... stuff... happened...

Thanks to every one who took time to review, hope you guys like this chapter.

Enjoy!

* * *

Kendall Knight strolled into his boss's office the day after, a huge grin on his face. Him and his partner in crime, Logan Mitchell have both managed to be the only reporters to bring in a clear story about the murder of the music producer, George Hawk, and his son in their house. Thanks to Logan's outstanding takes, this gave them a huge push forward as no other photographer managed to get such good shots of the maniac who had opened fire on the cops and reporters.

"Have you seen today's issue?"

He asked his boss, Arthur Griffin, already knowing his answer.

"Of course, I did! Everybody did!" The white haired man replied, his grin stretching from ear to ear; "The photos attached are absolutely brilliant! How he managed to get those is beyond me!"

"I know." Kendall grinned, having been partners with Logan for over two years; he had grown accustomed to the brunette's quietness and dedication to work; which both have reflected greatly on his career; "I could've sworn he's psychic."

"And where's my man of the hour?" Griffin asked; "I thought I told you to bring him with?"

"I have been calling him all morning." The blonde replied; "he hasn't picked up."

"Call him again." The boss replied; "You both are getting a raise!"

The young reporter couldn't wipe the smile off of his face as he speed dialed his partner again.

* * *

Logan Mitchell groaned as he heard his unmistakable ringtone blare. He reached into his pants pocket, wondering why the hell he was still in his tight jeans from the day before. He was pretty sure that he and Kendall had raced back to their editor's house and had somehow convinced him to take out one of the articles of today's issue and replace it with their own. When he walked into his home just after six in the morning; he was ecstatic him and Kendall managed to pull it off.

He looked at his phone, seeing Kendall's name flashing. The dim light of his phone had suddenly made him aware of the dull pain in the back of his head. Never more thankful for closing all the blinds before bed, Logan pressed the silent button, his head pounding so hard.

Logan reached to rub his forehead gently, his mind finally clearing up; enough to realize that he wasn't even in his bed.

The next thing he realized was that he was lying in a pool of blood.

The brunette sat up slowly, a sigh of relief escaping him when he realized that aside from the pain in his head he was perfectly fine. The relief, however, died short when he looked behind him to see the blood-drenched body of his own wife.

Logan crawled toward Camille's body, his hands ghosting over her dried blood and getting cut on the shreds of a broken vase. Her name was escaping his lips in a broken plea as he reached her. He refrained himself from touching her body, picking his phone to call nine-one-one.

As he frantically talked to the operator, his eyes wondered back to his wife's body, watching the black duck tape that was covering her eyes.

_Oh, how he wished he could look into those eyes again…_

* * *

**One Year Later…**

"Those are a sample of three hundred pictures taken by Logan Mitchell." Kendall turned on the lights using the remote in his hands and moved to stand in front of the conference table, facing his bosses; "He saw in them some meaning or feeling and wrote his opinion and idea under them and gathered them all to hopefully be a book. What's really fascinating about those photos is that, as you have seen during the presentation and from the samples," He gestured behind him; "is that all those photos were not staged or edited whatsoever."

Minutes later, Kendall was standing outside of the conference room, waiting for his boss to inform him of whether they liked the book idea or not.

A few months after Camille's murder, Kendall left his job in the news paper and was now working for a publishing company and owned his own printing house. He was tired of being Logan's partner, especially when the latter lost his interest in his job so he quit. A month later, Logan had called him about the book and he was excited for his depressed friend that he finally found something to get him out of his miserable state.

"I need you to bring me that book and photographer so we can write the contracts." He jolted up when he heard his boss's voice.

"They agreed?"

"Of course." The older man nodded; "Why wouldn't they? I mean, Logan Mitchell is a really well-known photographer and the book proposal was very convincing. So bring them in, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Kendall's smile fell.

"Yeah. What would be the problem with that?" The boss asked; "I thought the book was already done."

"It is! It is." Kendall replied; "We're just missing the last couple ones, he's still working on finding the perfect shots. Just give us one month; that's all I ask."

"A month?" The man repeated; "That's not gonna happen. You have two weeks at most, Knight, make it happen."

* * *

Logan studied the photo in his hands, tracing the frame with his finger. He was thinking about the day this photo was taken. It was back when Camille and him were still engaged and he thought he should break her stress of preparing for their wedding by taking her on a safari trip. It had worked well; he can see it in the wide grin she had on her face as she held on to him from behind while he worked the camera with one hand.

A knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Come in, it's open." He shouted. He discarded the photo in a box, among other photos that were stacked in it neatly and proceeded to take down the other frames off the wall.

"Why the hell is your door open?" Kendall asked as he walked into the living room, he took a look around and turned to Logan; "And what the hell are you doing? You're moving?"

The brunette shook his head and took off the biggest frame, which was an almost real-sized picture of Camille; "Just redecorating." He carried the heavy frame and made his way to the basement, the blonde trailing behind him.

"Look, I just finished the meeting." Kendall informed him; "They want the book, but they want it fast."

"Deadline?"

"Two weeks." Kendall said, opening the basement door for Logan; "One day later and the deal is cancelled, they won't buy it."

"They don't have to, then, screw them."

"Are you nuts?" The blonde reasoned; "We're lucky you're known and we're lucky they said yes, otherwise, this wouldn't have worked out!"

"They said yes to the money I want?" Logan asked as he said the frame down and moved to leave the basement, he turned to the blonde to see his eyes lingering sadly on the frame; "Ken, did they say yes?"

"Yeah, they said yes." Kendall followed the photographer out; "What are we missing from the book, again?"

"One final photo."

"You need to get it fast." Kendall told him; "You quit your job right after Camille's death and you're running out of money. If we don't get this deal and if this book doesn't sell, you're done. You'll have to sell this house or something and you'll still spend all the money and then what? Broke again."

Logan nodded; "I'll figure something out."

* * *

Logan sat in the subway, pressing every single button on his new camera in frustration. He'd just bought it a few hours ago and was walking around, desperately trying to find anything for the last picture in his book. He looked up for a second, noticing the old man in torn clothes who kept eyeing him.

Next thing he knew was the man standing up from his place and sitting beside him.

"I don't really like those new cameras." The man said as he reached for the camera.

"Excuse me." Logan said as he wrapped the camera's strap around his hand, pulling it away from the man's reach. "Let go."

The man ignored Logan's demand; "They just claim they have the best cameras, something about technology, which I honestly don't get." He reached into his clothes, pulling out a pin that was holding the side pocket to the jacket he was wearing clumsily and reached for Logan's hand that was holding the camera. He used the pin to poke around between the buttons while the camera still rested in the brunette's hand; "Go ahead. Turn it on."

Logan pushed the button doubtfully, turning to look at the man in surprise when it actually worked; "How did you-"

"Don't you want a real camera?" The man asked, leaning back in his seat; "I have a beautiful old one. Cameras are like our own eyes, sir. The older it gets, the more experienced it is. This new crap they sell as cameras are just total bullshit. A Daguerreotype camera, one of the first portable cameras ever, back in eighteen-thirty-one ."

"Do you even know anything about cameras in that era?" Logan chuckled, not believing him; "Big, bulky cameras that need a shit load of time to prepare them for a shot."

"Do you even want to know the story behind this beautiful antique?"

Logan looked around him when the subway came to a stop, noticing he'd actually missed his stop. He sighed and turned to the old stranger; "Humor me."

"I will." The man leaned back in his seat; "Back in the eighteen-hundreds a rich countess lived in New York. Her son, Ned was crazy about photography. After his mother's death, he spent all her money left and right, trying to find a camera that's he can go around with, that doesn't need much to work, you know? Anyway, it took him six years to find someone who'd make the camera for him. In eighteen-thirty-one, he finally got what he wanted and this camera was pretty much all he had. But it was worth it; the camera was truly one of a kind. Ned even asked in his will that the camera would be buried with him."

"If that's true, how did it end up with you?"

"A few men robbed Ned's tomb a few years back, thinking there's be more besides the camera there. But there wasn't and the camera ended up with a history teacher, the one who had documented all what I'm telling you about this camera." The man leaned in towards Logan and said; "He also advised that, whoever has the camera; should never use it at all. Something about a curse, I'm not sure. But it would be great to have that piece in a collection, am I right?"

* * *

Logan jolted up in his bed when he felt a hand sneak up around his waist, hugging him from behind. He sat up in bed, looking beside him at the place his wife used to occupy every night, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath, trying not to think about his dream anymore; he hated the past. He ran a hand through his messy hair, and snapped his head towards his room door.

He jumped out of bed and picked up a pair of pants and a shirt, hurrying down the stairs towards the front door. The bell rang just before he reached it and he yanked the door open, looking at the fifty-something year old woman standing before him.

"Sorry, I was getting dressed." He apologized.

"I just came." The woman replied: "Can I?"

"Right." He said and stood aside, letting her in and closing the door behind her.

The woman walked into the house, to the living room. She stopped mid-step when she noticed the boxes full of picture frames of Logan, Camille and their friends. She addressed him as she moved to the living room; "You're moving?" she asked as she sat down on the couch.

"Redecorating." He gave the same he gave Kendall just the day before.

She nodded; "Sorry that I bothered you, coming here without telling you first. I don't have your phone number." He sat down on the arm-chair beside her; "How's the house after… you know…"

"How is the house?" He repeated; "I'm sorry?"

"I mean, are you happy in it?" She asked; "I actually came here to try and buy it back from you, I imagined that you'd be all in on that, particularly after Camille's death." Logan looked down and shook his head frantically, she nodded and looked around; "When I was living in this house, I thought it was too big for me. That it would be hard to live alone in it. But after you two bought it, I couldn't believe I actually did it. And I missed it. You know, family house and all the memories."

"Mrs. Diamond, I'm sorry b-"

"Just think about it." She said as she laid a hand on his knee comfortingly; "If you decide to sell it, I'll be more than ecstatic to buy it. And now it costs almost double what you two have paid all eight years ago," She got no answer as the younger brunette kept looking away, his eyes bouncing up and down at a fast pace. She sighed and picked up her purse; "I'm sorry if I bothered you."

She got up to leave and was almost out the door when she heard Logan call out her name.

"Look, you're Camille's aunt and…" He trailed off and shook his head; "I keep a spare key under the front doormat. You can come whenever you feel like it."

"Thank you, honey." The older woman smiled genuinely; "I'll be waiting for you to visit me as well, okay?"

* * *

"I had no idea people who quit their jobs are that happy." Emily Mitchell said as she hugged her brother tightly; "It's about time you came to visit."

"Kendall told you?" Logan asked as he followed her to the kitchen, and sat at the counter table, watching her as she moved around, preparing dinner for her husband.

"He also said you won't finish the book." She closed the oven and walked towards him, resting her hand on his shoulder; "Logan, are you mad at me?"

"No, not at all." He shook his head; "Why would you ever say that?"

"You were always a quiet guy, Logan." Emily started; "You wouldn't normally talk to anybody but me. You haven't been visiting or talking to me as much as before; so are you mad at me?"

"No, I swear it." Logan replied with a smile; "There's just nothing to tell lately."

"So you're okay?"

"Em."

"Just tell me that you're sure you're okay and I'll back off."

"I'm better than before, sis."

"Good." She smiled and hugged him. When she pulled back, she glanced at the clock; "Hey, Carlos is almost home. You should stay for dinner."

Logan's frown returned as he declined the offer, sliding off the stool where he had been sitting; "I have some stuff to do at home; I should get going."

"Oh, come on." Emily tried to stop him, only getting a kiss on the forehead in return as he slipped past her and walked towards the door; "At least stay for dinner!"

"Can't. I have to go."

He was about to turn the door knob when it was pushed open from the other side and Carlos Garcia walked in, nearly bumping into his brother in law.

"Logan, hey!" Carlos greeted; "Where're you going?"

"I have to go, I need uh-I need to finish some work at home." Logan answered, refusing to meet Carlos's eye. He pushed past the shorter latino and completely ignoring the elevator, heading straight to the stir case.

Carlos looked at Emily questioningly and she gestured to him to follow her brother. Carlos sighed and went to the elevator, following the guy he knew since high school and he managed to catch up to Logan right in front of their apartment block.

"Logan!" Carlos called as he finally caught up, catching Logan by the elbows and turning him so he could look at him; "Are you really going to act like that every time you see me?"

"It's nothing; I just have work to do."

"Look, I know you're mad at me because of Camille's case." Carlos said, watching as the brunette shoved his hands into his jeans' pocket; "But you need to understand that I wasn't the cop in charge, okay? I was taken off the case because Camille and I are related through you and Emily and there was nothing I could do about it. The cops on the case did every thing they can, Logan, there was nothing else that could've been done."

"It's been a year, Carlos." Logan finally said, bouncing on the balls of his feet; "Let it go."

"You can't tell to freaking let it go when every time you see me you look at me like I killed her!" Carlos looked down and sighed, running his fingers through his short hair; "I'll try to reopen the case and see what I can do, okay? Hell, I'll start a private investigation if I have to."

"You don't need to." The taller man replied; "I don't need anything from you."

* * *

Three hours later, Logan was standing in front of his dining table, where a tool box and various tools were scattered all over the table. He held the ancient camera that he had just bought the day before in his hand, proud of the fact that he had fixed it in record time and that it was ready to roll.

He aimed the camera at the wall where all the photo frames used to be and snapped a picture, grinning as he heard the loud shutter. He took another one of his living room and packed the camera to go out and take some pictures with it.

By the time he was home, he had only taken two photos. One of them was of a street performer in front of the subway station and the other was of a random old man who owned a coffee shop down the street from his place. He went to the basement, where there was a separate room where he had a few old cameras that worked with films and where he used to process those films.

An hour later, Logan sat on his living room couch, in front of the wall with the photo frames, frowning as he studied the photo in his hand. The wall in front of his was completely bare, just as it was when he took the photo earlier. He raised the photo he held I his hand, looking at the large frame of Camille's photo that he had taken down the previous day.

He ran a hand through his hair, gripping the ends of it at the nape of his neck as he looked at the other photos, swearing these weren't the ones he took. The one of the street musician didn't show him playing the guitar, instead, he was sitting against the wall, hugging his guitar to him and appeared to be asleep. The one with the old man showed the man's limb body on the ground in front of his coffee shop with a crowd of people gathered around him.

He discarded those two and looked at the one that freaked him out the most.

It was of a body of a man a little over six feet tall. He was lying on his back between shreds of glass on the floor of Logan's living room. The man's features weren't that clear and Logan couldn't recognize him at all, all he could tell about that man was the fact that he had dark hair.

_That's about it_…..

* * *

First of, I know about old cameras as much as I know about Chinese language. Nothing. At all. Well, I know they worked with plates back the, not with films but let's pretend they worked with films back in 1831? I know films were invented by the end of the 1800s and the start of the next century but I'm not anywhere near sure. So yeah.

And no, this story is not about anybody coming back from the dead. Just to be clear.

There are also no vampires or werewolves or witches.

Or a zombie apocalypse.

Just saying.

Till next chapter!

-J


	3. Chapter 2: Diamond

Woohoo! Glad I managed to get this out so soon. I don't know if you guys like this or not, but I prefer writing short (kinda) scenes that deliver the point, and not loooooooong drawn out ones that I can read and go "What just happened?!". So I'm sorry if this isn't your cup of tea, you can leave me a review telling me what you want and I will see what I can do.

Cant help it, I'm a people pleaser :P

Sooooooooo, Enjoy!

* * *

Carlos sat in the archive room, twirling around in his seat. He had ordered an officer to bring him all the documents concerning Camille's brutal murder and he was waiting.

"There you go, Officer Garcia." The younger officer handed him a file; "But this case was closed almost nine months ago; why are you digging in it?"

"This serial killer killed ten people. Last of them was my brother-in-law's wife." Carlos said as he opened the file, looking at the victims' information and photos; "He's still not talking to me because I couldn't find the murderer."

"But nobody has been murdered since then." The officer argued; "It blew over and nobody cares anymore."

"So you want me to not care?" Carlos asked and looked up from the paper; "Who was working on this case?"

"Your partner, Officer Stetson." The man replied; "You were taken off the case but he wasn't."

A few minutes later, Carlos was sitting behind Jett Stetson's desk, looking over a few pictures that were taken from the crime scenes of the ten victims.

"I've never seen those photos before." Carlos commented as he looked at all the corpses of the ten victims in front of him.

"I took them myself for my investigation." Jett Stetson said as he sat on his desk, facing the latino; "You know, away from the routine and protocol. But that didn't help, I still came up empty-handed."

"Can I have them?"

"Absolutely. There's more." Jett nodded and hopped off the desk, opening the top drawer and reached for a file at the bottom; "I have here all the articles that have ever been written about that, from the very first victim back when you were still on the case."

"I never noticed that they all had duck tape on their eyes before." He turned to his old partner; "Why is that?"

"Their eyeballs were popped after they were killed." Jett replied; "The killer would pop their eyeballs then duct tape over the cavities. Pretty sick stuff, if you ask me. That man is a total psychopath, no arguing with that."

"Why?"

"I don't know." The blonde replied; "But that's on my top ten questions list to ask that man if we find him." He shrugged; "Look, I looked into all of those cases a hundred times before. The only thing in common was the fact that their relatives were indifferent to the fact that they dies. Almost like they didn't give a crap. Except, of course, Camille Roberts, your relative. Her husband was devastated."

Carlos nodded and stood up; "I'm gonna take those, okay? Don't forget to get me all the victims' profiles."

"Absolutely."

* * *

"And where are those photos?" Emily asked when Logan was done telling her about the photos he'd taken with the old camera.

"I have them."

"And what are you gonna do with them?"

"Report them, of course."

"What will the cops do, Logan?" Emily asked; "And let's assume the camera really did shoot a snapshot of a crime that had happened a while ago in your house, what would that be of any good to report it? What's in the past should stay so."

Logan sat back and rubbed his forehead; "You don't believe me…."

"Hey, it's not that." She replied; "Logan you quit your job, you're just recently started coping with Camille's death. Isn't that enough dead people in your life so far?" She shook her head; "You're losing it, you just should focus on working on the book and taking care of yourself in the time being. What you've been through is enough."

Logan's legs started bouncing up and down, a bad habit of his; "You're starting to sound just like him." He said as he gestured to the giant portrait of a fifty-year-old man that was hung a couple of meters away from them.

Emily sighed; "Dad wasn't always wrong, Logan."

"Oh yeah?" He said sarcastically; "Since when?" When Emily refused to answer him or meet his eye, he stood up and headed for the door; "Bye, Em."

"Listen." She said as she turned to face him; "If you're gonna report it anyway, go to Carlos. Please, he will help you."

* * *

Logan had realized that Brooke Diamond probably knew the man in the photo. Judging by the man's clothes, Logan knew he would've been in that house within the last few years and Brooke, the woman who had inherited that house and lived in it for decades must have know if someone died there.

That's how he found himself standing in front of her door just a little less than thirty minutes after he left Emily's studio.

Brooke opened the door, a smile quickly spreading on her face; "I've been expecting you, come on in!"

"You've been expecting me?" Logan frowned as he closed the door behind him and followed her towards the kitchen, where she stood making lunch.

"Camille told me you were a cancer." The older woman smiled; "Cancer likes meeting new people."

"I just came to ask if you had a son." Logan asked, looking around in discomfort; "Tall and dark hair."

"James." The woman confirmed; "You see his photos when you came in?"

A minute later, Logan was standing in front a table in the living room, photos of Brook and a man around his age neatly organized on the table.

"James was away in Los Angeles for college and medical school. He came back here for his internship year, but he left immediately after for his masters and doctorate. He visits every once in a while, but he has come back one month ago, doing some research for work."

Logan nodded; "So he's here now?"

"Yes." She nodded; "He actually should be back in a few."

"It was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Diamond." Logan said and bid her good-bye.

"You've barely been here for fifteen minutes, stay a while."

"Maybe later."

Logan the apartment and headed straight to the elevator. He made his way down to the lobby and was walking to the block's entrance when he stopped dead in his tracks, watching the tall man who had just walked into the building, taking the eight steps to the entrance two at a time. He adjusted his shirt collar as he passed by Logan, sending a gentle smile towards the shorter brunette; his right hand never leaving his dress-pants. Logan kept his eyes trained on the taller male until he disappeared into the elevator, never looking back.

_James Diamond…_

* * *

Logan held the camera in his hands as he entered the shop. The owner of the shop was pretty well-known among the photographers of the state, being a retired photographer himself. His shop was full of all kinds of cameras, some that aged back to the early nineteen-hundreds, that he had collected in over forty years of his life. Logan thought that if anybody was to help him with information on his old camera, it would be Reginald Bitters.

The man was holding an old lens, cleaning it gently while an old canon sat on the desk in front of him. His glasses laid low on his nose as he looked up at Logan and eyed the camera in his hands suspiciously.

"How can I help you, kid?" The seventy-year old asked, never taking his eyes off the task at hand.

"I just wanted to see if you know anything about this camera? Or have one like it?" Logan said as he set the camera in front of the old man. "I'm collecting some information."

"Where the hell did you get this?!" Reginald asked, the lens in his hand long forgotten as he reached for Logan's old camera, turning it around in his hands, inspecting with.

"You know it?"

"N-No." The old man replied, setting the camera back on the desk reluctantly; "And we don't have anything like it. I've never seen anything like it in my life."

"You just asked where I go-"

"And I don't have any accessories for it; this is the first time I've seen it in my life." He raised his eyebrows, eyeing Logan suspiciously; "Anything else I can do for you?"

"No." Logan gritted his teeth picking up his camera and he was out the door when he heard the bell that was hung above Bitters's place ring. He turned around to find a young man, perhaps of twenty standing before him.

"You." The younger male said; "Do you want to sell this?" He asked, pointing at the camera.

Logan raised his eyebrows; "Only if you'll tell me what the deal with it is."

"Nothing is wrong with it." The man, whose name tag read 'Steve', answered; "Do you want to sell it or not?"

The brunette launched forward, grabbing Steve's collar in his hand; "What is wrong with it?"

"You got it from Josh?"

Logan let go of Steve and stepped back; "I got it from someone in the subway, he looked weird. Torn, dirty clothes, almost like a beggar."

"That's Josh Martin." Steve replied as he smoothed his uniform down; "How much did you pay for it?"

"Twelve-hundred." The photographer replied; "So? What's up with it?"

"It's stolen,"

Logan's eyes widened, cursing the old man at the subway; "From whom?"

"What's in it for me?"

"Whatever you want; I'll pay it."

"Gustavo Roque."

* * *

Logan looked at the huge mansion in front of him, walking up the stairs. He was praying that this Steve guy wasn't playing him and that he'd actually find the music producer turned antique collector in this house. He knocked at the door, waiting for a few minutes before a woman in her thirties opened the door for him.

"Yes?"

"Umm. Does Gustavo Roque live here?"

The woman nodded; opening the door for him; "Kelly." She said as she ushered him inside; "My name is Kelly."

"Logan." He said as he walked inside; in awe of the interior beauty of the mansion. While the outside was all modern, the inside was all about classic.

"Who's that?!" The brunette jumped slightly at the booming voice.

"He's asking for you." The woman shouted back and turned to Logan; "Sorry, he's partially deaf and refuses to get a hearing aid; you'll have to shout."

Logan nodded and turned to Gustavo; "Sir, My name is Logan." He shouted; "I wanted to know if you're familiar with this." Logan said as he held the camera out for the older man.

Gustavo sighed and motioned for the brunette to follow him, the woman excusing herself. Gustavo ushered Logan through the house and into the basement, Logan following silently. When Gustavo opened the door to the basement, Logan frowned, staring at the pitch black space in front of him.

He was about to step further in when Gustavo stopped him and reached his hand inside, flipping on the lights and again, the photographer was left in awe.

The entire basement, which ran the same perimeter as the house, was stacked with all kinds of statues, gramophones, plates and drawings that dated back to hundreds of years ago.

"All that," Logan pointed to the room in front of him, where it won't even be possible to maneuver without breaking everything in the entire room in a chain reaction; "Is all yours?"

"What's left of it, yeah." Gustavo replied; "The rest got stolen, I think."

"There was more?" Logan blinked; "Wow." He turned to the older man; "This camera was among the stolen things?" Gustavo eyed the camera and turned around, walking up the stairs, back to the house; "I was told it had a book with it, I'm looking for that book."

Gustavo nodded; "Do you know who the woman that opened the door is?" Logan shook his head; "That's my nurse, my personal nurse. My relatives thought it would be safe if she lived here, caring for me." The man smiled slightly; "I have Alzheimer's, Mr. Logan, why would I remember where the book was? Assuming it ever existed." He turned to face Logan; "You can go back to the basement and pick out a piece or two, pay whatever you want. But I can't help you out with the book." Logan nodded and Gustavo asked as he ushered him towards the front door; "Why do you want that camera anyway? You don't look like a kind of man that would collect antiques."

"You could say that…. Something happened a while ago. The camera and the book will help me with it."

"When you grow old like me, you'll learn to leave the past in the past." Gustavo replied; "I wasted all the money I made from producing while I was concentrating on the past; collecting all that. Now, I'm ready to sell everything at any price to pay for my medical care."

"So you don't want the camera back?"

"No, keep it."

* * *

Logan took the stairs up to his house two at a time. He wasn't entirely happy that he was living in such a secluded area, but that was all he's got. He got his keys out and was reaching for the keyhole when he stopped suddenly. Holding his keys, he pushed his front door gently, frowning as it opened easily. He bent down, lifting the doormat slightly, not finding his spare key.

He stepped into the dark house, setting his keys and the camera gently on the small table in the corner, careful not to make any noise.

Hearing noises from the kitchen, Logan walked quietly towards the kitchen, picking up a baseball bat that was resting behind the front door on his way. He held the bat in his hands, ready to strike as he neared the kitchen. He leaned against the wall, his back fully against it as he sneaked to the kitchen. He stopped at the door and leaned his head forward and chuckled silently.

He rested the bat against the was and stood against the kitchen's door frame, watching as the brunette woman was crouched in front of the refrigerator, an opened grocery store bag opened on the floor as she re-stacked his fridge.

"You could've at least told me you were coming." Logan said, watching as his sister jumped from her crouch, stumbling back and landing not so gracefully on her butt.

"Asshole." She muttered as she stood up; "You scared the shit out of me!"

Logan helped Emily stack his fridge, as he told her about his day.

"So?" She asked when he was done; "What do you think that means? Not finding the book."

"That I will listen to you and lay this to rest." He closed his fridge; "Focus on my book and finding that last picture."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

"I just don't want you to be pissed at me." She replied and he smiled; "I only tell you that because I care for you." He nodded and kept his smile on his face; "There's something else, but promise you won't get mad at me, okay?"

Logan frowned slightly as he allowed his sister to drag him through his house and into the living room, turning him around so he was facing the wall where he and Camille hung up a lot of pictures. The same wall that he had emptied just two days back, putting all the frames in his basement. The wall he photographed with the old camera the day before.

_The same wall that wasn't empty anymore._

He stood in front of the wall, his lips parted slightly and his eyes wide as he watched Camille's big picture frame hanging; just like it was in the picture he took.

"I don't want you to be mad." Emily said softly; "I didn't like seeing her picture discarded in the basement. I know I told you that you'll have to get it together and move on at some point but I didn't mean that you should just kick her out of your life for good. You don't have to forget her in order to live."

"The camera didn't take a picture of something that had happened." Logan didn't seem to have heard her as he ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

"Of course, Logan." She nodded; "Cameras don't ta-"

"It took a picture of what was going to happen." He said louder, facing Emily; "I photographed this earlier and it was completely empty, with out Camille's picture. Camille's picture was in the photo I took with that damned camera." Emily rubbed her forehead, sighing as her brother rambled; "I thought that happened because I took it off, I thought that already happened. I didn't know you're going to put it up again and no-"

"Enough." She interrupted him gently; "Enough, Logan, please. Do you even hear yourself right now?"

"Do you know what that means?!" He asked; "The other photo, the murder I told you about….. It didn't happen yet." Logan turned to look at the coffee table, that was completely shattered in the photo he took, a body lying limply amidst the shreds of glass of the coffee table; "Some guy will die here. In my house."

"Can I see those photos?"

Logan shook his head; ignoring her; "I have to enlarge this picture, I need to know who that guy is." Logan walked past her, going to his room, where he had left the photos the day before.

"Where the hell are you going to that now?" Emily asked as she stopped him on the stairs; "You should wait until tomorrow, go do them at Kendall's, okay?"

Logan nodded; his head still reeling.

_He had a trip to Kendall's printing-house the next day._

* * *

Jett Stetson adjusted his shirt collar as he made his way to his office, whistling some old 90's tune. He pushed the door to his office, not surprised to find Carlos Garcia sitting on his desk, a frown on his face as the files of the victims were spread in front of him.

"When did you get in?" Jett asked as he took off his jacket, putting on the coat-hanger.

"An hour ago." Carlos replied; "Have you noticed any pattern before? With the victims, aside that their relatives didn't seem all that devastated after their death?"

"Not really." Jett shrugged, sitting across from Carlos; "Why? Did you find anything?"

"Check this out." Carlos started; "The first victim, Chris O'Donnell, was a pimp; he spent time in prison. Secondly; David Zevon; he was charged with rape and assault; he also spent time in prison. Third; Diana William; she got charged with prostitution like four times but she was released for insufficient evidence. Collin Martinez; two years for burglary." He sighed; "They're all like that. That's why their relatives were indifferent to whatever happened to them. They all have criminal records; they're all such a disgrace." He leaned back in his seat; "I have to meet some of their relatives."

"What about Camille?" Jett asked; "The last victim? Did she have a criminal record as well?"

"Of course not."

"Maybe she'd done something, just never got caught for it?"

* * *

Logan stood next to the one of the workers in Kendall's printing-house, the photos clutched tightly in his hands. He was waiting for the picture of the guy in his apartment to get printed.

"Mr. Mitchell?" The worker said as the photo got printed; "That's some weird ass photo. What camera was that?"

Logan ignored the man, ordering him to roll the giant photo. He took the photo and walked to the entrance but he was stopped by Kendall himself.

"I didn't know you were here."

"I was just getting something real quick." Logan replied, holding up the rolled up photo; "I was just leaving."

"No, wait." Kendall stopped him again; "Look, someone wants to hire you to shoot some photos for a documentary. He wants you, okay? I tried hooking him up with someone else but he insisted that he wanted the best, meaning you."

"Ken, I told you I stopped, okay?" Logan replied; "I'm busy." He made a move to leave again but Kendall grabbed him.

"Just come talk to him, okay? If you still don't want the job, decline it." He ushered Logan to his office, snatching the photos out of his hands, looking through them; "Wow, you're crazy. Are all photographers like that? Do they all pretend to be crazy so they'd get called artistic?"

Logan grabbed the pictures back and followed Kendall into his office; "Let's just get this over with."

Kendall chuckled and pushed the door to his office open, Logan following him inside; "There you go, I got Logan for you, in the flesh." The man, who Logan instantly recognized, stood up from his seat and walked towards the other two men, extending his hand with a genuine smile to Logan; "Logan Mitchell." Kendall gestured towards the taller brunette; "James Diamond."

"We met before, right?" James asked, letting go off Logan's hand; "You look oddly familiar."

"Yesterday." Logan nodded; "Your mother's apartment block… you were coming in, I was leaving." He glanced at Kendall, who has raised his eyebrow at them; "We're related. My wife is your cousin."

"Really?" James asked; "I'm sorry, I'm not really big on families anyway, not since my parents divorced years ago and I had to change homes every few weeks." James grinned; "So, which cousin was it? Last I checked, I had four of those."

"Camille Roberts." The photographer answered; "Well, Mitchell."

"May she rest in peace." Kendall interjected.

"She died?" James asked and turned to Logan; "I'm sorry."

"It's-uh..okay."

"Look, since you two are related." Kendall started; "That's an even bigger reason for Logan to work with you. James would want to explain what he wants exactly."

James nodded, following Kendall with his eyes until the blonde sat on his chair by his desk, clasping his hands together in front of him; "Sure." He said and turned to Logan; "Unfortunately, I have to leave now. Maybe we should meet up tomorrow and talk things out?"

"Absolutely." Logan replied quickly, getting a weird look from Kendall in return.

"Cool." James nodded; "I'll get your number from Kendall and call you." He smiled; "I'm sorry it came out of no where but I'm in a real rush to get this job done."

"I understand." The brunette nodded; "I'm available."

* * *

Okay, so I have figured a few things out. 1) I suck at choosing titles for chapters. 2) I'm glad I don't have to name chapters in Shattered; otherwise I would've been doomed. 3) I'm glad Canon isn't that long or I would have had some serious problems with those titles. 4) We are officially almost at the halfway mark for Canon. 5) I'm a REALLY boring person….

Over-and-over; HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

Talk to you all soon-ish!

please, leave a review to let me know what you think :)

-J


	4. Chapter 3: Project Nut House

Late update, I'm aware. BUT I have my finals going so the writing process is really slow. Sorry about that.

Enjoy :)

* * *

Logan looked through the pictures in his hands.

James had called him, as promised, and asked him to meet in some coffee shop near Kendall's printing-house. As soon as James arrived, he came down to business and handed Logan the pictures he was going through. They were of the some prison of different prisons there and the general condition of the prison. The wall painting was almost falling off, the prisoners were dirty; with overalls with too many tears to count.

"That's the project exactly." James said as Logan continued going through the photos.

"What exactly is this?" Logan asked, sipping his coffee.

"That's the local prison in Kansas City." The tall brunette explain; "They were taken before it was renewed. We shot everything, the prisoners, the inhumane ways they were treated in and everything in between."

"And then what?"

"It's this charity group I take part in, in my free time." James smiled; "We visit different facilities and see if they're good enough for the residents, whether it's a hospital or a prison or whatever the hell it could be. When we have a project, we need to back it up with photos and evidence and once we have a complete view of what we want; we present it to the government and put them under the scoop you know? They wither renew those facilities or face the wrath of the media cause it's against human rights and all that. They usually succumb to our demands."

Logan nodded; "So you want me to shoot around another prison somewhere?"

"Not exactly." James chuckled; "It's a psychiatric rehabilitation center this time; or an asylum if you may. I did the first few months of my internship there, before I quit and transferred to somewhere better. I know that place pretty well, I know about the negligence of patients and the whole place is just awful. Surprisingly enough, that place was the best in the state just a few years back; so much had gone south in so little time." He shook his head; "Anyway, I was put in charge because I know the place and if I manage to get a few decent pictures; I'll be able to make the government renew the place and care for it. Hire good doctors and manage the patients."

"That's a shitload of work ahead."

"You're in?"

"Why not? Something to do."

* * *

Carlos looked around him in disgust. He was standing in Chris O'Donnell's room; the first victim of the killer, who also happen to be a sex addict and a pimp.

The walls were covered by posters and pictures of naked women and men, with some telephone number written in sharpies here and there. Even though it has been two years since he was killed, the room was kept as it was.

As Carlos stood in the basement-turned-room; he couldn't help but wonder what kind of thirty-year-old pimp still lived at his parents' house.

"Why didn't you redecorate?" He finally asked; "Or at least took those pictures down?"

"I-We don't really come down here." Mark O'Donnell, Chris's father, replied. His hands were clasped in front of him as he looked down in a mix of feelings, sorrow, shame and embarrassment; "We locked the basement up with all of his stuff."

"Do you remember anything that happened before or after the murder?" Jett asked, standing next to Carlos; "Anything that you would've thought was nothing and didn't mention in the interrogations?"

"I told everything I knew, sir." The man replied; "We didn't even know of Chris's…. profession… until he was already gone."

Carlos sighed and excused himself, walking upstairs to the front door, Jett on his toe. He was almost out when a woman in her fifties, who Carlos recognized as the mother, called out to him.

"There's something you should know, officers!" She called.

"Anna!" Mark warned and stepped forward but was instantly held back by Jett; "Don't!"

"Something happened after the Chris was killed." She ignored her husband; "A woman came after the murder, she kept asking about Chris and she gave us money. She stopped by every couple of months and left a sum of money every time but that had stopped a while ago."

"What did she look like?!"

* * *

"She was hot." The twenty-something year old replied, blinking slowly at the two men; "Really good-looking, too."

"What did she look like?"

The guy rubbed his forehead; "She was a brunette, around five feet six, dressed fancy."

"What did she want, Dak?"

Dak Zevon, brother of the second victim, replied; "She asked about David, what he did, how he died and she brought me money every once in a while."

"And she stopped suddenly around a year ago?" It was a statement more than a question from Carlos, but Dak nodded anyway.

"Yeah."

* * *

"So she didn't tell you her name?" Carlos asked desperately; "Anything?"

"I asked the first time but she wouldn't tell." Mary William, Diana's sister replied; "She asked about Diana and the murder so I just assumed she was an old friend or something."

"What did she ask about?" Jett asked.

"I don't remember any details." She replied; "It felt like an investigation though."

"And then she offered you money?"

"Offered?" The woman chuckled; "She more like forced it on me."

"Until it stopped after a few months?" Carlos asked.

"Exactly that."

The latino nodded; "Would you recognize her if you saw a photo?"

"Maybe… I don't know." She shrugged; "It's been a while since I saw her."

* * *

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat in the passenger seat of Jett's car. The two of them had just finished visiting the victims' families and came up with the same results.

Someone had visited them all after the murder and gave them money.

"Who do you think would do that?" Carlos asked as the car came to a smooth stop at a red light; "Who would visit the families after the murders?"

"I don't know." Jett shrugged, resting his head on the window; "Maybe she's just a reporter or something."

"If she was, then why would she give out money?" Carlos asked; "And why wait an entire month to pay the visit?"

"What if she'd the mystery murderer, then?" Jett suggested; "Just seeing if everything is going according to plan?"

"How's that explain the money?"

"We agree we're dealing with a total wacko, right?" the blonde asked, getting a nod in return; "What if she is mentally unstable? What if she gave out the money to the families to… compensate them for the loss she caused?"

"I don't know…."

"The case is opened again." Jett sighed as he revived the car back to life as the lights turned green.

"The case is opened again." The latino echoed as he gazed out at the people passing them by.

_Shit just got more complicated._

* * *

"It won't be easy; I won't lie." James said from the driver's seat. He and Logan had agreed to carpool and he had just picked Logan up, and they were on their way to the centre to take some shots; "It's not like they're gonna admit their foul treatment of the patients or the lack of pretty much everything. Just let me do the talking; I think I can convince them."

Logan nodded, his gaze fixated out his window. He watched the blocks passing by and his eyes widened when they reached the end of his street.

There, in front of the local coffee shop, was a big commotion. A lot of people were gathered around something and when he saw it in that split second, he instantly recognized the scene. The old man who owned the coffee shop was sprawled on the concrete in front of his business; the same way he was in the picture Logan took just three days ago.

The photographer kept his gaze fixated on the scene, up until James took a turn and it disappeared. He turned in his seat sharply, a hand coming to rub his face then run smoothly through his hair in distress.

_This was proving to be too much at the moment._

Logan kept to himself all the way to the hospital, fiddling with his camera in discomfort. A few minutes later, they arrived at the rehabilitation center and he watched as James told the guard and told him to tell the head of the hospital that he was there. Two minutes later, the guard came back with an apologic smile.

"I'm sorry; he won't be able to meet you now."

"Are you sure you told him doctor James Diamond?" James asked.

"Yes." The man replied; "He said he will call you and re-arrange another meeting."

The doctor sighed and backed away from the gate; "I never thought he wouldn't even let me in."

"So?" Logan asked; "What do we do now?"

"Plan B, of course." James muttered.

"Which is what?"

"Are you free tonight?"

* * *

Logan walked behind James, shaking his head at the carelessness of whoever was in charge of this place. They had entered from a hole in the wall at the back of the fence, away from the gate where the guards mostly stayed. Apparently, a patient had tried to escape, harming three of the staff and making that hole in the wall a couple of years back and they hadn't bothered to close it.

_Something about the budget…._

He trailed behind the doctor, who led him along the fence and towards the house. They stopped at a small backdoor and James got out his phone, texting someone. A few minutes later; the door was opened and a man ushered them inside, peeking his head out and checking around for the guards.

"What took you so long?" The man asked.

"Sorry." James mumbled; "Logan, this is Travis. A doctor here and one of my colleagues back from med school. Travis, this is Logan; my photographer for the night."

Both men shook hands and Travis led the two brunettes inside. He led them through the maze of hallways, Logan taking pictures of anything that caught his eye. The building was poorly lit, the few lamps that were actually working were flickering; giving the place the air of an abandoned warehouse instead of a fully functioning medical center.

"Try not to make much noise, please." Travis asked; "As much as I hate this job, I don't want to lose it and have to uproot my family to go and work somewhere else."

Logan nodded and pointed towards one of the open doors that led to a big room, lined with beds; "All the patients stay together?"

"Yeah." Travis nodded; "There're plenty of rooms for each patient to have his own privacy; but the rooms aren't even furnished. This place was financed with a little over a million dollars, and it started out great. But it seems to have spiraled out of control over the past seven years." Logan separated from James and Travis, wandering around and listening carefully for any footsteps that could be heading his way.

Meanwhile, Travis was still talking to James about the facility. He told him about how budgets kept getting cut that they eventually had to move the patients into the two biggest rooms in the building, which actually used to be the cafeterias, in order to sell some of the rooms' furniture to provide for the patients. That's besides cutting down a lot of employees.

"Most of the bathrooms are out of service, too broken to function." Travis continued as he led James through the hallways, both forgetting about the photographer who was wondering around; "To even the food that's way past it's expiration dates and still getting served. The beds get cleaned once a month and they have to spend a night without sheets until theirs are cleaned; there's no extras."

"Wow." James muttered; "That's way worse than I remember."

"You haven't seen anything yet." Travis shook his head; "Even the electroconvulsive therapy had stopped because the device isn't working. We have been having troubles with patients because of that."

"Just use the new one, instead of it being locked up in the basement."

"It's not working either." Travis sighed; "It's pathetic, really."

They stopped at a T-shapped hallway, ending with a window. James walked towards the window and looked through, sighing at the sight of the sickly yellow grass in the yard. He didn't hear the door at the end of the hallway and was startled when he heard the panicked 'Hey!'

He turned around sharply to see Travis opening a door to his right and getting in and closed the door behind him. Glad that Travis won't be dragged into this, he took off at a run towards the beginning of the T-shapped hallway, back to where he left Logan. He heard the hurried footsteps behind him and heard Travis shouting; 'What the hell is going on?!' in fake alarm.

He reached the end of the hallway and turned a right, only to find Logan running towards him and gripping his hand, pulling him towards the left.

"This way!" He said as led James through a maze of hallways.

They took a few turns left and right, all the while hearing the two men behind them calling for the guards, until they reached a small wooden door in a corner. Logan opened the door and pushed James through, entering behind him. James sighed in relief when he saw the back staircase that led all the way to the back of the building's first floor. He made a move to run down the stairs, but he was once again stopped by the photographer. Logan grabbed him again and pulled him up the staircase, towards the roof.

"If we go down they'll catch us." Logan explained as he ran up the stairs, two at a time. They reached the roof, noticing that the four guards had now joined the chase and were passing the two doctors and catching up to them. Logan ran across the roof, James on his toe until they reached one of the edges. James looked down and saw a small two-storey building, where the guards stay. It wasn't a hard jump from the roof and it would bring them so close to the fence and they could jump over; "Come on!"

James snatched his hand away from Logan's tight grip; "How do you know your way around here?!"

Logan blinked; "Seriously?! NOW?!"

"Yes, now."

Logan looked behind James and saw the guards had made it to the roof and were approaching them in full speed; "Now is not the time! I'll tell you when we get out!"

"I'm not moving unt-"

"FREEZE!"

Both brunettes turned around, facing the four handgun barrels belonging to the four guards.

* * *

"I used to work in a newspaper." Logan said as him and James sat together in the police station. Logan had called Carlos and the latino showed up twenty-minutes later to see what was going on. The officers had confiscated his camera and he was waiting for a word from Carlos, who was trying to bail them out. James had asked him again how he knew his way around the asylum; "A while back, a friend and I went there to get some shots and statements from the doctors and patients to expose the place, but the article was pulled back before we could publish it due to inappropriate content. I would bring you the photos I took two years ago, but they're at the news papers' archive, which I no longer have access to. That's how I knew my way there."

James nodded; "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I don't know." Logan shrugged; "I didn't see a reason to."

The taller brunette grinned and bumped his shoulder to Logan's; "You were trying to escape back then, too?" The photographer chuckled slightly; "You quit working in the news paper?"

"Yes."

"Why?" James asked; "I mean, I didn't like my previous job, too."

"You didn't like psychiatry?"

"It's more of the place I worked in." James shared; "I even chose one of the hardest branches of psychiatry to pursue."

"Branches of psychiatry?"

"Yes. I work mostly with depression." James said; "It feels good to treat someone from that, you know?"

"Yeah."

"So. Have you always loved photography?"

"Of course, I have." Logan grinned.

"And why?"

Logan was about to answer when Carlos approached the two, with Logan's camera in his hand.

"There." He said as he handed the camera to Logan; "I'm sorry but they had to keep the memory card."

"It's okay." Logan stood up, followed by James and Carlos ushered them both out. He stopped when they were in front of the police station and asked to talk to Logan in private. The photographer nodded and they both walked a little bit ahead, away from James; "Who's that?"

"Just a client."

"So what now?" Carlos pressed; "Anybody who'd tell you to jump; you jump? That was illegal Logan."

"We're related." Logan replied; "I'm doing him a favor."

"Weird." Carlos eyed James; "I've never seen him with you or Emily before…" He turned back to Logan; "Did he know Camille?"

"Is this an interrogation or something?" Logan asked; "Cause I just finished one inside."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Thank you for showing up, okay?" Logan shrugged; "Bye."

"Wait." Carlos said as he grabbed Logan by his elbow; "I wanted to know if you are sure that…" He trailed off, not wanting to upset the brunette; "I wanted to know if the person who attacked you and Camille was a man?"

"I had to be." Logan replied; "He shook off my punch way too easily and smashed a vase on my head. It had to have been a man."

"Are you sure?"

"I…." Logan ran a hand through his hair; "God, I don't know.

Carlos nodded; "Don't let it get to you, okay? I'll figure it out."

The latino watched as Logan walked to James and they both walked off together, hailing a cab after two blocks. He sighed and walked into the station again, and went to the young officer who interrogated James and Logan about their night's activities.

"I need the information about that psychiatrist. Everything you know."

* * *

"To make everything look better, more beautiful." Logan said, his head resting back in James's car as James drove him to his house.

"Excuse me?" James asked, glancing at Logan then back to the road.

"You asked me why I love photography." Logan replied; "I like seeing the good in everything. Capture a beautiful moment; keep it alive. Or even look at something from a new perspective; a perspective that would make it better."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhmm." Logan confirmed; "That was what got me started, anyway."

"Well, can you make me look better?" James grinned.

Logan chuckled; "When I began a career, I used to do celebrities' photo shoots at first."

"It's a deal, then. You give me a free photo shoot and I'll give you a free therapy session." At Logan's raised eyebrows; he continued; "It's not that hard to notice that you're not okay."

"We'll have the photo session." Logan nodded; "But this therapy thing, I tried that before."

"Oh, come on!" The taller brunette said; "You don't trust my abilities?" He pulled up to Logan's house; "Either that or no photo session so what do you say? We have a deal?."

Logan opened the door and stepped out, mumbling a 'thank you' to the other male. He leaned down and leaned down; "Deal."

"Awesome." The photographer reached for his pockets and handed James three memory cards with a smirk on his face; "What's that?"

"Working in the media taught me to change the memory card every few photos." Logan explained; "Just in case they took away the memory card or deleted my work. Those are some shots from today."

"Thank you."

* * *

Sooooooo, was it boring?

I tried not to make the Carlos/Victims' families scenes too long. I didn't want that to take over the plot line and bore you all out so I cut them as short as I can.

And hey, has anybody figured anything out yet? any theories of what can be going on around here?

Please review and let me know what you think

-J


	5. Chapter 4: Suspicions

Well, that was a fast update. Definitely sooner than I thought would update. Anyway; happy to announce that we're just ONE chapter away from the epilogue and that by the end of this chapter, you should be able to tell who the murderer actually is.

So enjoy!

* * *

The flash blared and the camera shuttered loudly in the relatively large room.

James kept the wide smile on his face as he shoved his hands into his pocket, looking straight at the camera. Logan shot another shot and held the camera away to see the shot.

"Shouldn't I take my clothes off? Try a sexy pose next?" James grinned, earning a chuckle from the photographer who resumed taking pictures of James.

"No." The photographer smiled; "No sexy pose for you. And I don't do nudity."

"So?" James moved to stand side-ways; "That's your studio?"

"Mhm." Logan confirmed; "It's closed though, I use it a storage room now."

"Why do you keep it closed?"

"Because I like to take photos without editing and tweaking them." Logan replied; "That's what I want."

"Which is what?"

"To finish my book." The photographer answered, kneeling down a bit; "I haven't chosen a title yet, but it'll all be real ones, you know? No editing, no Photoshop, nothing at all." He raised the camera again; "I just can't find the last photo." He discarded the camera on a near-by table and moved to adjust the lights.

"How about this?" James asked and pointed to the old wooden camera that was placed in the far corner of the room, among other boxes full of whatever Logan's belongings were; "Can you take a photo with this?"

"Uh-" Logan sighed; "That's not such a good idea."

"Oh, come on!" James left his place by the white back-drop, walking towards the shorter brunette; "For me?"

One hour later, Logan was done processing the photo. He held the photo looking at it, very aware of James peaking from behind.

"Why is it so black?" James asked, not seeing the frown on Logan's face; "Is the camera broken or something?"

Logan turned around and looked at James, his frowned deepening; "I don't know…"

* * *

Logan walked into the big room, eyeing the classic mahogany furniture. He stopped at the chaise lounge that was in the middle of the room, with a leather chair next to it and turned to James.

"Are you shitting me now?" He said, getting a laugh in response; "You're not gonna tell me to lie down and talk and all that crap, right?"

"Why not?" James asked; "Have you ever tried to just talk? Let everything out?"

"Of course not." Logan replied and looked around, "This place is yours?"

"I just came back a few months ago." James replied; "And I'm not staying long, this place is my friend's." He crossed his arms in front of his chest; "And we're here so I could listen to you, so quit asking questions and try answering instead."

"Answer what?"

James ushered Logan towards the chaise lounge and sat him down. He ordered Logan to lie down and close his eyes and try to relax. He sat down on the chair next to it.

"Imagine something that had happened to you in the past; anything at all." James's voice was quiet and smooth as he leaned down; "It can be a good or bad situation; but it better be a bad one. What matters, is that this situation had touched you; one way or another. It could have happened yesterday, or even years ago. Try to see it like you're watching a movie; from a third person's point of view and put it in a rectangle, just like a cinema screen. Feel everything, remember every detail; whether that day was hot or cold, remember who you were with, what you were doing. Watch the movie in black and white then turn it to colored; see which do you prefer." James smiled as he saw Logan's fists, which were clenched by his sides; relax. "You're in control. You can make it summer or winter, whichever will make you more comfortable. Watch it in normal speed, then try to slow it down. If it didn't go as you wanted before, imagine it happening your way. The people around you, did they like you or not? If not, make them like you. And what you were doing, if you hated it just change it; you have the power to do that. If it was good, just make it better." James leaned back in his chair and rested his head back, watching Logan's body language; "You can bring in someone you love, anyone. Have them call out to you. Now, go to them; show them you love them." The psychiatrist smiled as he saw a faint smile make its way to the photographer's face; "What really happened doesn't matter, it's what you wish had happened."

Logan's reaction to his last statement was the exact opposite of what James expected. Instead of the brunette relaxing more, his breath quickened and he sat up quickly, his eyes widened in panic.

"What happened?" James asked, his hand coming to rest on Logan's shoulder for support; "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Logan nodded; "I'm okay. I think."

* * *

Carlos sat in his office, listening to Dak Zevon.

The younger man was trying to describe the woman that came to him with so many details as possible. A painter was sitting next to him, trying to paint in every detail Dak tells him. They were trying to identify the mystery woman.

Jett was sitting beside the painter, hovering and watching every little detail being added to the sketch. After a full hour, the man finally handed Jett the sketch and Dak was surprised at how Jett's eyes had obviously widened upon observing the woman in the portrait.

"Carlos." Jett said as he stood up from the couch, holding the painter's final creation, the one that Dak had approved was the closest to the woman. He walked to the desk, where Carlos was sitting; "You gotta see this, man."

Carlos reached for the sketch and grabbed it eagerly, wondering why Jett was so surprised. But as he held the portrait in his hand, he understood perfectly why.

She looked different, there's no doubt about it; this wasn't an accurate picture after all. But there was no use denying that those brown orbs belonged to someone he knew very well.

_Someone he considered family._

* * *

Logan ran a hand through his hair as he sat in the station, waiting for the subway. James had been his ride for the day, and he had lost it when he decided to leave so suddenly after James had tried to get him to 'relax'.

He had tried so much to forget about that certain incident but for some reason, the second James uttered that he better remember something he didn't like; that was the scene that started playing in slow motion in his head.

He could still recall the event in scary accuracy, not missing one detail. This event was the turning point in his life after all.

_And he was just twelve…_

He could still remember the mini-basketball court, where the baskets were shorter for kids his age to be able to shoot baskets. He remembered his first dunk and how ecstatic he was when he heard the swish of the ball going through the net. He remembered his father encouraging him from the sidelines and him running towards his father to get a well earned hug.

Then he hit the floor and everything went black for a while.

_That almost cost him his friendship with Kendall…_

Logan shook his head to avoiding thinking about the memory all together. He raised his head to watch the people in the busy station walking around in loud chaos, his gaze immediately finding the familiar torn clothes and the mini afro.

_No fucking way!_

Logan sprung to his feet and walked through the crowds of people, trying not to lose sight of Hawk. He kept following the older man until he disappeared in the men's room and Logan followed quietly behind. He walked in to find Hawk by the sink, washing his hands.

"Fancy seeing you here." Logan said as he leaned against the wall, nodding politely to a stranger who was leaving the bathroom. He watched as Hawks eyes got comically wide as he turned around in surprise; "So? Are you gonna tell me what's wrong with the camera?"

"Y-you said that y-you wouldn't give it back!" The man stuttered; "I already spent the money, I have nothing for you."

"I don't want to give it back, and I don't want my money back." Logan spoke rather calmly, more calm than he had anticipated himself to be, as he approached the older man; "Now tell me, what's wrong with the camera?"

"Nothing!" Hawk replied; "It's a great antique, I told you that."

Logan shook his head and lunged forward, trapping the man against the wall with a surprisingly solid grip; "What's wrong with it?!"

"It doesn't work!" Hawk shouted, trying to get the brunette off of him; "It doesn't work! That's why I told you not to use it, I swear!"

"Why didn't you tell me not to use it?!"

"It's just something to l-lure you into buying it!" Hawk replied desperately; "I swear that's all!"

* * *

"I still don't understand and I'm not sure what you want me to say" Kendall said as he sat down on the couch in his office; "And why did you come to me, Carlos? Why not go straight to Logan? Because he'd beat the crap out of you?"

Carlos hadn't seen Kendall Knight in a while. They both had gone to the same schools and were close friends with Logan, but they didn't speak as regularly as Logan and Kendall or he and Logan did. But when he found out the fact that Camille was the woman visiting the victims' families, he felt the need to run this by Kendall first before dropping the bomb on Logan; considering he was the one who introduced the once-married couple.

"No." Carlos answered; "Because you've known Camille the longest, and you introduced them."

"I also know that she was one of the best people I've ever known." He crossed his arms against his chest; "You're crazy if you really think she had anything to do with the murders, especially since she was killed as well and you're ruling out those who are alive."

"I'm not ruling anybody out." The latino answered; "I'm doubting everything and suspecting everyone."

"But not Camille." Kendall insisted; "We both know she was one of the most descent people."

"We also know that she was different the last couple of months before she was killed." Carlos pushed; "She wasn't herself, she seemed like she had a lot on her mind; almost depressed."

"Maybe she was fighting with Logan?" The blonde suggested; "They both loved each other to no end and when they fought… it was bizarre. They cared too much."

"What about the fact that she visited the families after the murders?"

"I don't understand why you're doing this? Why are you off onto this case again?" Kendall asked; "We both know it's all in vain. Logan wouldn't care if you set yourself on fire for his satisfaction, nothing would ever replace Camille. And that's what he wants, he needs her." He shrugged; "You'll never be able to make him happy again. Especially if you went to him and told him you think his wife was a murderer."

"Can't you see how he is?" Carlos asked; "He's going crazy! He's not himself and he's just… out of it. He needs this closure, Ken. The least I could do for him is to provide him that closure."

"You've good to be kidding me." Kendall muttered; "Logan has always been this way. He's always been impulsive and silent and easy to get angry. I don't understand why you find that so weird now. I don't think you should talk to him about this. Let time heal him, time is capable of that. We, however, can't fix everything." He checked his phone; "Crap. I have a meeting to get to. Just think about what I said, don't jump into action without thinking every step through, okay?"

Kendall walked out, leaving Carlos in his office in the printing-house deep in thought and more confused than ever.

* * *

It was just before five when Logan slammed the door to his house shut and threw his keys on the small coffee table and ran to the basement. He found the pictures he had taken with the old camera, rubbing his forehead at what he saw.

The photos were completely black with dark fringes of light. They didn't have the details he had seen before, no dead people or hung portrait. He found the photo he had enlarged at Kendall's printing-house and spread it on the floor, laying the other photos around it and sled to the floor in front of the small display.

Logan pulled his knees to his chest and grasped his head in his hands, his elbows resting in his bent knees and his eyes darting between the black photos in front of him. He rocked himself back and forth gently, a mantra in his head going on about how this made no sense at all.

"_**The camera didn't take a picture of something that had happened."**_

"_**It took a picture of what was going to happen."**_

"_**Do you even hear yourself right now?"**_

"_**That's some weird ass photo. What camera was that?"**_

"_**Wow, you're crazy. Are all photographers like that? Do they all pretend to be crazy so they'd get called artistic?"**_

"_**Is the camera broken or something?"**_

"_**It's stolen."**_

"_**It doesn't work! It doesn't work! That's why I told you not to use it, I swear!"**_

Logan's shaking came to a sudden stop as he cocked his head to the side for a second. He stood up, ignoring the small pile of pictures on the floor and hurried up the stairs to the house and stood in front of his front door.

Not a second later he heard the door bell ring and he opened the door to find Carlos standing on the other side.

"Can we talk?" Carlos said and Logan ushered him inside. They sat down and Carlos was about to speak when he noticed the distant and almost scared look on his brother-in-law's face and how his gaze was fixated on the floor; "Logan? Are you okay? You don't look to good."

"Umm." Logan muttered as he tore his gaze away from the floor and looked at Carlos; "Why? Why are you here?"

"I wanted to ask you about something." Carlos eyed Camille's big frame on the wall and swallowed; "I'm just scared you'd get me wrong. I want to ask about Camille."

Logan nodded; "Ask me anything."

"Before the murder, was she okay?" The cop asked; "I remember she hadn't been herself the last couple of months before she was killed."

"I never noticed…"

"Logan, I think I'm onto something." Carlos said; "Help me if you really want to know who killed her." When Logan didn't answer, Carlos continued; "Did you know she visited all the murderer's victims' families after they were killed? That she asked about them? How they died? She gave them money, for God's sake; how could you have not known?!" Again he received no response as Logan looked at him blankly; "Why do you think she did this, Logan? The reason why she did this has got to be why she was killed, right? Maybe she found out something?"

"She never told me anything…"

"How about you go through her stuff?" Carlos suggested; "I know you still have them. Maybe she had a journal or she had something on her laptop. If there was any friend or relative you think she could've talked to; just tell me and I'll find them. Go through her mail and call log, see who she was talking to before she died. Believe me, Logan; this could make all the difference."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Logan was alone again. He took the steps down to the basement two at a time and opened the door open. He ignored the photos he had left on the floor merely fifteen minutes ago and went to the boxes on the corner. He opened the boxes one by one, retrieving Camille's laptop and some photo albums.

He sat on the floor, going through the albums with such urgency that he almost missed it.

The third album, picture number seventeen. Dated to exactly twenty-two months ago.

Brooke Diamond's smile was contagious, but Logan didn't find it in him to smile as he saw the two people standing next to her. Camille was standing to her right and no one other than James Diamond was standing on her left.

_Not big on families, my ass!_

Logan shut the album ad picked the laptop, which he had left to start up during his frantic search through the albums. He opened Camille's email, typing in his birthday as the password. He waited for the page to load and when it did; he kind of wished he didn't.

The last twenty emails or so that Camille had received and sent had been from James. Any spec of doubt in Logan's mind that James was lying to him had indeed disappeared. He didn't bother reading the emails, closed the internet tab and started searching the folders.

_He had to be sure._

* * *

Carlos walked into his office, heading directly for his desk's drawers.

He was searching for the file Jett had told him about earlier, the first day they started working on the case again. Jett had told him that he had gathered everything that had ever been published concerning any of the murders.

He finally found the file in the bottom drawer and opened it, going through the multiple articles. He was surprised to see that they all had photos of the victims' corpses attached to them. He remembered that reporters were forbidden from entering any of the crime scenes until after the corpses and the evidence where taken.

He was even more surprised to not find the 'Crime Scene Do Not Cross' yellow tape in any of the photos. He frowned and looked at the photo credits, raising his eyebrow when he saw Logan's name. Carlos picked another article from another magazine, his mouth forming a perfect 'O' as he saw that the photo credits went back to the newspaper Logan worked in; to a certain brunette photographer in particular.

He picked another article and another one and another one, coming up with the same result every time.

_This is just wrong._

Closing the file, Carlos headed out of his office at a fast pace.

He had research to do.

* * *

Two hours later, Logan was finally done going through Camille's laptop and there was no doubt in his mind that James Diamond was lying to him. What he really wanted to know though, was why the taller brunette was lying.

_Why would he deny knowing Camille personally…?_

Logan ran a hand through his hair and dialed James's number and he waited for the brunette to pick up.

"Hey, James."

"I'm good."

"Yes, I'm sure. Umm, listen, remember the picture I took earlier?"

"Yes, the one with the old camera? I managed to process it. I need to show it to you."

"Can you come by?"

"How about… an hour?"

"I'll be waiting."

Logan hung up, glaring at the phone.

_It was time to get some answers._

* * *

Yes, Logan; it's time to get some answers indeed.

Now, at this point in the story; you should be able to have a solid idea of who the murderer is. Or at least be torn between two people, no more. If you have figured out who the murderer is; good for you! The reason why they did it is explained in the next chapter. If you haven't; that's completely fine, it actually makes me feel awesome that I managed to get you confused enough.

That's the point of a mystery, right?

BUT I will give you a hint. Logan's book WILL be published.

I don't think I'll be able to update again this week, unfortunately. I mean I'll try, but I have like four tests this week only so I'll be a little swamped. I'll try to write in any free time I have and we'll see where that gets me.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, feel free to leave a review; positive or negative. Both are awesome.

-J


	6. Chapter 5: The Ugly Truth

It's REALLY short but there's gonna be a LOT of switching scenes in this chapter, but it's important and serves the plot and a lot of shit happens. I'm sorry if it gets confusing so bear with me, okay?

Enjoy and let me know what you all think :)

* * *

"Logan went to a rehabilitation center." Carlos said as he sat down on his living room couch. "Auditory and visual hallucinations to an amazing degree. He stayed there for four years… He was there until your dad died." Carlos ran a hand through his hair; "Your mum got him out after that. How come I don't know about that? We've been married for five years and you failed to tell me that my best friend was in an asylum for four years?"

"Why would it matter to you?" Emily asked and crossed her arms in front of her chest on the chair opposite to him.

"You're keeping secrets from me, Em. You kept that from me and God knows what else and that doesn't settle well with me." He replied; "My wife and my best friend lied to me."

"That's Logan's life." She replied; "It's his life, his choices and I can't make him do something against his will. I couldn't have made him tell you, he didn't want to."

"Of course, he wouldn't." Carlos said sarcastically; "Why would he make it known that he's a wacko? One-hundred-percent grade-A jacked-up batshit crazy ass. It wouldn't be surprising if he was the one who killed Camille."

Emily sprang up from her seat; "Logan would never do that! He's not crazy and he loved Camille! He loves her still!"

"How do you expect me not to think of him as my first suspect?" It was his turn to stand up, "How do you expect me not to suspect a crazy guy who did time at a fucking asylum?"

"My brother is not crazy, Carlos!"

"That was when he was staying with your grandparents, wasn't it?" Carlos asked; "That was what you told Kendall and I."

Emily sighed and sat back down slowly, her eyes staying fixed on her husband's; "I'll tell you everything."

* * *

The door bell rang and Logan narrowed his eyes. He had been standing in front of the door, leaning back against it, for at least thirty minutes, waiting for James to show up.

He reached forward and unlocked the door; he opened it to find James smiling brightly on the other side. He opened the door wider and got out of the way, letting James in silently.

James walked in, almost to the living room when he heard Logan's voice.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew Camille?"

* * *

"Dad admitted him into the centre after the accident." Emily said; "Remember when you guys where playing basketball in that friendly match when you guys were twelve? Logan had scored the wining basket for his team and Kendall's competitive side got the best of him because he wasn't the one scoring and he ended up pushing Logan hard from behind."

"I remember that." Carlos replied; "He hit his head hard that day, there was blood. Our parents took us home immediately and Logan slipped into a coma for like, two weeks, right?"

"Right…"

* * *

"I wanted to know you." James said quietly as Logan advanced on him. He took a couple of steps back away from Logan and into the living room; "I didn't want you to suspect that Camille might have told me anything."

"Told you what?" Logan asked as he kept walking closer to James.

"Your secret."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The people you killed." James said and pointed towards Camille's photo frame on the wall; "Before you killed her."

"Are you crazy?!" Logan shouted; "I didn't kill anybody!"

"Camille used to tell me everything." The taller brunette said; "She used to email me and call me every few days, she wanted my help! She told me about the hallucinations you'd have, she told me about those days you'd come back home covered in blood."

"Shut up."

"She told me about the photos you took. Why did you kill her, huh?!" James's voice started getting louder; "Why did you killer her, Logan? Did you want her to carry the secret to the grave?!"

"Shut the hell up!"

"You were scared she was going to report you?" James continued; ignoring Logan's orders; "Why did you kill her? Why did you kill all of those people?! Did your hallucinations do this or was that all you?!"

"Shut up!" Logan finally screamed and grabbed James by his shoulders and slammed him against the wall, right next to Camille's photo, earning a groan from the psychiatrist; "Those weren't hallucinations! They weren't hallucinations, do you get that?!"

"Then what were they?" James asked, wrapping his hands around Logan's arms, trying to release himself from the photographer's surprisingly strong grip; "Tell me what they were, I can help you. I want to help you."

Logan released James, taking a few steps back and turned his gaze towards Camille's photo.

* * *

"He had a severe concussion." Emily continued; "He slipped into a coma for a few weeks and when he woke up, we found out he had lost his memory. Luckily, that was only temporarily and he got better. We thought…. We thought he got better. We thought he was back to who he was again. We couldn't have been further from the truth."

"He went crazy." Carlos supplied; "And he started hallucinating."

"They weren't hallucinations." Emily glared at her husband; "After he restored his memory, Logan's doctor requested to see my parents. They said that after head injuries that are that severe, weird changed may occur and that they're hard to predict. He said that Logan may be smarter than he was. Or may be he would have a photographic memory. It was all unpredictable. And that's exactly what happened to Logan."

"What happened to him?"

"He started seeing… things." She elaborated; "But they weren't hallucinations. It started out that one time when we were invited to a party and Logan randomly pointed to some waiter and he said that the waiter will trip and spill four champagne glasses on a woman that was standing on the other side of the room. A few minutes later, it happened. Just like he said it would." Emily shrugged slightly; "It went on from there. He'd say something and it would end up happening."

"Are you trying to say that Logan…. sees the future?" Carlos asked. When Emily nodded, Carlos chuckled sarcastically; "Are you kidding me, now?"

"Before any major event would happen, Logan would say. Nobody believed him, not even me." She replied as a few tears became visible in her eyes; "Two days before our grandpa died, Logan said he would. Dad didn't believe him, thought he had lost it and he had Logan admitted the next day. He couldn't believe that Logan actually knew what was going to happen."

* * *

"Everyone who has visual hallucinations think that those hallucinations are snippets from the future." James said as he pushed himself away from the wall, moving to stand behind Logan; "Or messages from another world or even that dead people talk to them." He watched as Logan turned around and rested his back against the wall right beside Camille's photo, right where he had pushed James just a minute ago, and slid down the wall; "They want to somehow explain what's happening to them, even if it's hardly believable, whatever explanation they come up with. They just…. need an explanation."

Logan pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around them; "Nobody knew what I was going through." He finally said, looking as vulnerable as ever sitting on the floor and looking up to James while rocking his body back and forth gently; "I-I tried to tell, I talked. I even talked to the therapist when I was admitted; but they didn't believe me. It was like I was left alone in a dark basement… discarded, forgotten. Alone." His voice broke slightly as he continued; "I tried to tell them but they wouldn't listen, nobody listened. Even my own father…"

* * *

"Those four years he spent in the asylum were hell." Emily continued; "He stopped talking to our father all together, he couldn't forgive him for admitting him. I don't think he ever got over that." She wiped the few tears that had managed to escape; "Four years later, dad died and mum got him out. He was okay, he went back to school and he was fine; but he became so quiet and tried to keep his distance from every one. A year later, mum went out to get some paper work done at the bank. I remember Logan had done everything to make her stay, but she went out anyway. He kept squirming all day long and he just wouldn't sit down, he kept pacing and he was nervous. When the phone rang a couple of hours later, he tried to hold me back; he didn't want me to answer. That was the hospital on the phone. Mum had a hard attack while driving and crashed, that's when I knew he knew about what was going to happen. But he couldn't do anything about it."

* * *

"I tried to shut up about it." Logan whispered quietly; "I tried to just shut up and not say anything, run away from the future. But I couldn't. So I chose to change it."

"I believe you." James said as he leaned down next to Logan; "I believe that you see the future. But that doesn't give you the right to murder innocent people who have done absolutely nothing."

Logan scooted away from James and stood up abruptly; "They were going to."

James sighed and straightened up; "Why didn't you try to report them?"

"What was I supposed to say?" Logan retorted; "My own father didn't believe me, why would complete strangers do?" he ran a hand through his tousled hair; "And I knew those people would do horrible things. One of them was going to rape a sixteen-year old. The woman was going to sleep with someone and kill him after to raid his house safe. They all… they weren't good people. I knew what they would do, I just didn't know when. I saved people from them; what I did wasn't wrong."

"That's why you killed Camille?" James asked; "How could you forgive yourself for something like that?"

"Whoever said I did?" The shorter brunette said; "I tried to drop clues during the first investigation; I even purposely took pictures before the police arrived, hoping they'd notice. After the investigation was closed, I stopped talking to Carlos. I knew that would push him to reopen the case again, I desperately wanted him to. I never forgave myself and I never got over it. I loved Camille, I love Camille."

"Then why did you kill her? Because she knew?"

"I didn't even know she knew!" Logan stared at Camille's picture for a few seconds then simply shrugged; "She was going to cheat on me."

"What?" James asked; "She was going to what?"

"She was going to cheat on me." Logan replied; "I know that what I see aren't hallucinations and I saw her… I saw her and Kendall and I- I saw it, okay?"

"No way." James shook his head; "No way would she've done that. Camille would've never done that to you, she loved you!"

"I saw it happen!" Logan shouted; "I saw what she was going to do, I saw it!"

"But she didn't actually do it!" James shouted back, trying to reason with Logan; " You killed her and she never cheated."

"She cheated!"

"She cheated in your head!" James pressed; "I believe that you see snippets from the future, but there have been some hallucinations too. Maybe you got them both mixed up? Maybe you thought she was going to cheat, but we all know how much she loved you. She covered for you, she kept your secret and she never told anyone; she tried to protect you because she loved you. There's no way Camille would have cheated on you!" James stepped towards Logan rested his hands on his shoulders, forcing Logan to look him in the eye; "Logan, nobody can see the future, and if you managed to change it; then it wasn't the future in the first place. Just come with me, okay? Turn yourself in and I will be right there by your side until you get better. We'll get you admitted and I'll treat you myself; I want to help you, okay?"

"Do you have any idea what I went through when I was living in that asylum?!" Logan shouted; "They shocked me! On daily basis, shocked me! They used electroconvulsive therapy even though it didn't work, just for the hell of it! To get me to admit that I was hallucinating when I wasn't! I'm not going back there! It's not gonna happen!" He got out of James's grip and shoved the latter with surprising strength.

James stumbled backwards, losing his footing when he tripped over the carpet and fell, smashing into the glass coffee table.

Logan groaned and rubbed a hand over his temple when James didn't move. He had seen this before; in the photos of the old camera.

_It was all in my head!_, he realized.

He stomped his way towards the kitchen where he had left the camera last. He found it and grabbed it, smashing it against the wall. He threw the remains on the floor in rage and stomped on them for good measure. He didn't stop until he heard the creak coming from the living room. He picked a kitchen knife swiftly and ran towards the living. He stopped abruptly when he saw the glass shreds from the coffee table on the floor, some pieces lined with blood and no James.

Logan looked around in frustration, his hand gripping the knife handle tighter. Logan turned around just in time to see James coming at him with his own baseball bat. The one he keeps around just in case a burglary happened or something. Logan scooted to the right quickly, James's swing barely missing him. James quickly recovered and swung again at Logan, who ducked, the bat smacking loudly against the living room door frame. Taking advantage of that, Logan tackled James to the ground, the bat slipping away from James's hand. Both men fell to the ground, and Logan was the first to recover, quickly straddling James and trying to hold his hands down with only one hand, while the other raised the knife; preparing for the strike.

Logan heard his front door lock turn and he glanced quickly towards the door, then back to James's struggling form beneath him. Taking a deep breath, Logan brought the knife down to James's chest. He watched as James's eyes widened in pain and his breath hitching in his throat. He pulled the knife back, now coated in James's blood, preparing to strike again.

_**Then the shot rang out.**_

* * *

I hope you guys liked that twist on events. Only one person has guessed Logan being the murderer, although others have came so close. So, there will be only one more chapter, a VERY short epilogue. But I do believe It will be up very very soon.

And now that Canon is almost over, I can go back to my first baby; Shattered. I haven't written anything for it in like, two months.

Anyway, feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think

-J


	7. Epilogue: Hallucinations

I'm sorry it's later that it should have been, sorry about that. I got caught up in a few things and wrote this in a little over 15 minutes so sorry if it's crappy.

Enjoy the final chapter!

* * *

James stopped resisting against the shorter Brunette when the latter suddenly froze above him.

They were sprawled on the floor, with Logan straddling Jameswith the kitchen knife in his hand, ready to strike. Logan had suddenly stopped attacking James and his head cocked slightly to the right with a distant look on his face.

James watched in amazement as he witnessed Logan seeing a hallucination right in front of his own eyes.

_It was fascinating..._

He watched as Logan shook his head slightly a few seconds later, his eyes regaining focus. Logan lowered the knife and rested it beside James's head, he bent down so his face was right beside James's ear.

"I'm the picture number three-hundred." Logan whispered in his ear and straightened up again, raising his knife once again with a small smile on his face.

_A tired smile_, James corrected himself.

James closed his eyes, preparing for the pain.

Then it all happened too fast for his head to register. A gunshot rang out and James's eyes flew open just in time to see Logan's body sway slightly, before falling to the right and hitting the floor with a loud thud. James crawled away from Logan's unmoving body, his eyes fixated on the hole in the side of Logan's forehead. He turned his head towards the door, seeing the unfamiliar Latino lowering his gun; seemingly in shock himself.

"Are you okay?

James nodded frantically, eyes blown wide.

* * *

James drummed his hand against the counter, waiting.

He had gone to the bookstore, the book was released today. Logan's book. It was exactly one month after Logan was shot and the investigation was all wrapped up. They had found a serial killer, who had killed over ten people including his own wife.

He remembered Kendall feeling so guilty when he was told that Logan's condition was caused by him. Carlos was very shaky after shooting Logan, after all, he was his best friend. Emily broke down; she couldn't believe she didn't see what was happening with her brother. She was sleep-deprived for a few days but James helped her with that, sending her into a deep sleep for over forty-eight hours.

She woke up better.

As for James himself, he was devastated. Logan had been family, whether he liked it or not. But Logan also was a very rare case. One in a million, if he would say so himself. Cases like Logan's were the reason James chose that field of studies. He craved to study those cases, cure them, if possible.

James felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned around. The bookstore owner handed him the book with a smile, telling him about how this was the last copy. Apparently, Logan's death and his mental illness have helped the book majorly when it came to sales. Kendall had insisted that all profit goes to funding James's research into visual hallucinations.

_Hallucinations..._

James chuckled at the irony. Logan wasn't suffering only from hallucinations, he saw the future, and James believed that whole heatedly. But still, he found naming the book Hallucinations was both ironic and fitting to the situation.

As James walked out of the bookstore, he felt that he was in a good place. He owed it to his dead cousin to research the illness that killed her indirectly. He wasn't sure if Camille's cheating was a hallucination or Logan seeing the future. It was something that had worsened Logan's condition. To Logan, Camille was one among very few people who hadn't disappointed Logan and he trusted her with his life. And frankly, James couldn't wrap his head about Camille cheating, he knew she loved Logan more than anything and anyone. She could've asked for a divorce when she figured out Logan's hallucinations and his night trips, but she chose to stay, she chose to help him and fight for him so why would she cheat now?

James would never understand that.

He ran his hand over the dark crimson, blood colour of the book cover and grimaced.

_At least Logan got his final wish_.

He completed his book with a final photo of his own corpse.

* * *

On a scale from 1 to 10, how bad was this epilogue?

Hope you guys enjoyed this story and I'm glad I at least made a friends outs out of it. Thank you all.

-J


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